


Cold. Wet. Rain. Sex.

by lalejandra



Category: lotrips
Genre: F/M, Sex, Transformative Works Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-09
Updated: 2004-04-09
Packaged: 2019-07-14 19:42:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/pseuds/lalejandra
Summary: There was always movement and motion and light behind Viggo.





	Cold. Wet. Rain. Sex.

Hannah sat on the beach while Viggo stared onto the ocean. She'd long since abandoned her ice cream cone, her hood, and all of her sanity. Viggo was watching -- watching everything. The air was sharp against her face, and she knew her skin would be chapped later that night. But she couldn't quite find it in herself to care.

It was never like this -- quiet and calm. There was always movement and motion and light behind Viggo. Now there was only grey and clouds, it was starting to rain, and the wind whipped at his hair, pulled at his clothes.

*

Hannah sat on the beach while Viggo walked up to her. The loose sand kicked around his feet; rain fell into her eyes and hurt more than the grains of sand did.

"Darkness," he said, and held out his hand. She let him help her stand, and shivered when the thunder rolled.

"Lightning," she replied. He turned to look out onto the ocean just as a strike came down.

"Timing." He smiled; her stomach clenched. "Let's go."

She nodded, kept her hand in his as they crossed the beach and stepped onto the boardwalk. The wood creaked under their feet.

*

Viggo disengaged their hands; she wanted to cry, but a moment later he slipped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into his side, let him shelter her from the rain. It was coming down in sheets; she could barely see to walk. Viggo guided her the same way she imagined he guided TJ -- pressure so slight it was more of a caress.

Hannah's skin was buzzing when they reached Viggo's bungalow. He held the door open for her, steered her to the kitchen with a hand on her back. She could feel his fingers even after he stepped away.

*

Viggo unzipped her sweatshirt, pulled it with her tank top over her head. He licked the rain from her skin, and when he pulled out his camera, she let all her clothes drop to the floor. He spread her out on his kitchen table, and for every touch of his tongue, he opened the shutter.

Click. Whirr. Focus.

Hannah let her head drop back over the side of the table and dug her fingernails into the soft wood. Viggo's shoulders held her legs apart, so broad it was almost painful. His beard scratched her skin, tickled. She held her breath.

  



End file.
